If I Told You Now
by Nom Faux
Summary: Dean and Castiel had many nights to themselves in which nothing happened at all. This was not one of those nights.


**Spoilers: **The end of season six, I guess? The references to it are pretty vague. Set sometime during or after season four, I suppose.

**Warnings: **Vague male/male sexual contact; some fluff. All Inspired by a song of the same name.

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><p>If I Told You Now<p>

On nights when it was Sam's turn to get water and basic food for the week, things got quiet. Dean and Cas didn't often have much to say to one another, and they both liked the quiet just fine. On this particular night, though, Sam had been gone longer than usual: the nearest grocery store was at least an hour up the road. Their little room was so far out of the way that nobody had changed the wallpaper in the last hundred years: it was yellow in most places, nonexistent in others. The bathroom light would flicker on and off at random, and the water from the sink smelled like asbestos.

Home sweet home. Dean thought that about every place. Had said it as long as he'd been a hunter. It made things more bearable.

Dean flipped through his stack of liquor store magazines, appraising each of the women as he came across them. It was nice to see Sports Illustrated's taste in women was nothing if not consistent: they all had bleached hair and enormous boobs.

Sometimes Dean would glance up over his magazine and his mud-caked boots to look at Cas. He was like a little kid, sitting on the floor ("I just prefer it to chairs, Dean," he said).

Cas had found a copy of _Les Misérables_ somewhere and had been using it to pass the time. At the rate Cas was going, he would finish the thing before Dean got through all his magazines. Dean was pretty sure that he should be ashamed of himself or impressed with Cas, but he couldn't find a fuck to give either way. He'd decided long ago that shame never won him a hunt or got him laid, so it was useless, and Cas had always made amazing feats his norm, so speed-reading was kind of boring.

As always, Cas was quiet. Everything was quiet.

Usually it was Cas who would break the silence when Sam was gone. Dean had a solid 30-nothing record-but this was the first night that Cas had a book to keep him busy. As Dean watched, he noticed that Cas's brow was furrowed. His lips were white, almost like he was angry at the book. Something was bothering him. He was being quiet for a reason.

To hell with the record. Dean had to know.

But he was Dean. He couldn't just _ask_.

"So," he said, pausing momentarily while openers rattled in his brain, "...I didn't know you spoke French, Cas."

"We are all given the Gift of Tongues," Cas said tersely.

"Oh." Dean replied lamely.

_Way to be a stone wall, Cas,_ Dean thought.

Dean was about to let it go. His eyes had just landed on the latest pair of tits when Cas spoke again.

"Dean."

Dean's eyes rolled up and onto Cas again. "Yeah?"

"Do you believe that all people deserve second chances?"

"Uh, yup," Dean said, diverting himself to the magazine once again. He always regretted having these Lifetime movie talks the second they started.

"Even angels?"

"What?"

When Dean looked up again, Cas was standing, his jaw set with what looked like his best interpretation of angst.

"Technically we are not 'people,'" Cas explained. "We cease to be when we are given the Grace."

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "You are a person."

"Then I am worthy of forgiveness?" Cas asked again.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Cas spoke again.

"Would my trespasses be less egregious if I told you of them before I committed them?"

Dean blinked. "Cas, it's too late for robot words."

Cas folded his arms, obviously searching his immense vocabulary for bite-sized words.

"Would it hurt less later if I told you now?"

Dean let this idea roll around in his head. He propped himself up onto an elbow and shook his head.

"Cas, whatever it is, you can tell me."

Later, Dean would wonder why he said _me_ rather than _us_.

Cas shook his head twice. He was getting more robotic by the second.

"I am going to hurt you, Dean, and I am so sorry. I have foreseen it."

Suddenly, Cas was there-_right there_-above Dean on the bed, and considering what Cas had just said... The angel could gank Dean and be gone, and Sam would be powerless to do anything. But Cas wouldn't do that. He wasn't a monster.

Cas's cold eyes searched Dean's face, and Dean could only stare back, wanting to ask what _the fuck_ was going on, but finding his jaw was shut. Silence stretched between them for year-long moments.

"If I am to betray like Judas," Castiel said at last, "then I should embrace the role fully."

Cas moved again in that impossible way he always did: all at once Dean felt lips on his and a hand in his hair. Cas had kissed him. Cas _was kissing_ him.

The angel parted his lips just long enough to take Dean's bottom lip between his teeth and pull. Dean was so confused that his mouth parted and Cas got what he wanted-he dove in, tongue first.

Before Dean understood it, he was kissing back. His hands were running up Cas's back, feeling taut muscle, pulling on hair. If Dean could have spoken, he would have commented on Cas's gift of tongues.

When Cas pulled away, there was color in his cheeks like Dean had never seen before.

"Sorry," Cas repeated. He averted his eyes, only to focus on Dean again.

"You think I wouldn't forgive you for that?" Dean asked, chuckling. "It was weird, but it wasn't-uh-bad."

Cas cracked a smile for the first time that night and Dean felt better, though he would never say it out loud.

It was Dean's turn to initiate a kiss. Cas made them naked before Dean knew it, and Dean could only laugh as they kissed each other here and there, and Cas's big man-hands groped him where no man had before. Cas found he could fit _both_ of his hands around Dean, a feat which left Cas in awe for minutes.

Later, after they were spent Cas would give oral a try, and he would prove to be a fucking _champ_ at it. The next time Sam was out, Dean would learn that Cas could make interesting noises if he was told he had to be quiet. Dean would learn what it was like to get a real ab workout and to have to hide purple marks from Sammy. They would keep doing this, because it was fun. Dean would rationalize with himself. It wasn't _all_ men; just Cas, because...Cas. That's why.

Later, Dean would understand what Cas's initial metaphor had meant.

Later, Dean would know that Cas had seen his end coming all along. That he had seen the monster all the way up the road, and still chosen to go out like he did.

Later, Dean would realize that Cas had compared him to Jesus. Dean was sure that he would never be loved quite like that as long has he lived.


End file.
